


Suddenly You're Standing Still

by hazelNuts



Series: Prompt Fics [141]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Braeden & Derek Friendship, Jock Derek, M/M, POV Derek, Pining, Shy Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 17:38:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14289957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelNuts/pseuds/hazelNuts
Summary: anonymous asked: "Stiles wears hoodies and is super quiet. Derek is a jock who is crushing on Stiles, and goes to a club to forget him because he thinks Stiles isn't into him. At the club there's a guy with a fox mask. Fox and Derek go to Dereks place, where Derek figures out the Fox is Stiles just when things start happening"Derek hates clubs, or any party that combines alcohol with loud music and a lot of people he doesn’t know. He likes dancing, but the bodies are packed so tightly together the only way people can move is up and down. Not that he is dancing. Braeden tried to pull him further into the crowd, but they got separated, and Derek just let himself be shoved to the side, out of the mass of bodies.Going out was Braeden’s idea. She thinks that letting loose for a night, dancing with hot people, possibly making out with hot people, will help him drop the torch he’s carrying for one Stiles Stilinski, smart, a bit of a loner, beautiful, and not interested in Derek. So far, it hasn’t worked.





	Suddenly You're Standing Still

**Author's Note:**

> If you think I forgot any tags, please let me know in the comments.
> 
> I couldn't find the original prompt so this is heavily paraphrased from my notes, the fic, and my memory. If this was yours and this isn't at all what you asked for, sorry.

Derek hates clubs, or any party that combines alcohol with loud music and a lot of people he doesn’t know. He likes dancing, but the bodies are packed so tightly together the only way people can move is up and down. Not that _he_ is dancing. Braeden tried to pull him further into the crowd, but they got separated, and Derek just let himself be shoved to the side, out of the mass of bodies.

Going out was Braeden’s idea. She thinks that letting loose for a night, dancing with hot people, possibly making out with hot people, will help him drop the torch he’s carrying for one Stiles Stilinski, smart, a bit of a loner, beautiful, and not interested in Derek. So far, it hasn’t worked.

He closes his eyes and leans against the wall, the base that’s vibrating through the concrete massaging his tense shoulders. The feeling isn’t entirely comfortable against his skull, but maybe it’ll shake his stupid crush out of his brain.

‘You’re not dancing!’ Braeden shouts in his ear.

‘Perceptive!’ Derek shouts back, without opening his eyes.

‘So it’s not working?’

‘No!’

‘The next step is movies and ice cream. Tomorrow night. My place.’

Derek opens his eyes to roll his eyes at his friend, but Braeden is already gone, dancing with a tall, curly-haired guy. He watches them for a minute, watches as she throws her head back and laughs at something Curly Hair says. Then his gaze is pulled to the side. There’s a guy in tight jeans and a tank top, gyrating to the beat, his body moving in a way that makes Derek’s throat go dry. With some effort he pulls his gaze away from the guy’s hips, and up to his face. His face looks flat and distorted in the flashing lights of the club, and it takes a second before Derek to realize it’s because the guy is wearing a mask. From where he’s standing, he can’t see what the mask is supposed to be, though.

 _I wonder if Stiles can move like that?_ Derek wonders, then snorts. He really is hopeless. Maybe he should just go home. Braeden is obviously having a good time, and at least one of them should. He glances to where she’s dancing and sees that a woman with shoulder length hair has joined her and Curly Hair. Yeah, he’s going home, and let Braeden have her fun before getting saddled with his mopey ass tomorrow night.

He pushes off the wall, and makes his way around the dancefloor, to the exit. As he passes by the bar he pulls out his phone to shoot Braeden a text to let her know where he’s gone. With his eyes on his phone, he doesn’t see the girl in front of him trip and drop her drink. He curses as the wet, sticky drink pastes his shirt to his skin.

‘I’m so sorry!’ the girl shouts, eyes wide and apologetic. She grabs a couple napkins and waves them at him.

‘It’s okay!’ Derek assures her. It’s not. Not having anything spilled on him was the highlight of tonight, but the girl looks like she’s about to cry. ‘I was going anyway.’

‘I’m really sorry!’ the girl shouts again.

Derek nods, takes the napkins, and presses them to his shirt for the last couple feet to the exit. He dumps the napkins in the trashcan by the door, and steps outside.

The fresh air is a relief after the heat and smells of the club; and even with the cars and people on the street, it’s almost quiet. He takes a deep breath, then sighs it out, slowly.

‘Bad night?’

Derek spins around. There’s someone leaning against the wall of the alley next to the club. The guy steps forward, out of the shadows of the alley, and Derek realizes it’s the guy he saw dancing earlier, the one with the mask and the amazing hips.

‘You could say that,’ he says. Up close and in the light of the streetlamp behind him, he can see the guy is wearing a fox mask. It’s mostly red—or orange, he can’t be sure in the low light—with white on the cheeks and inside the ears. The mask doesn’t cover the guy’s entire face, but leaves wide eyes and a teasing mouth exposed. Realizing he’s been staring at that mouth, Derek quickly pulls his gaze up. ‘I saw you dancing earlier,’ he says.

‘And you liked what you saw?’ The guy pushes off the wall. He’s almost as tall as Derek, but slimmer.

 _I could easily pick him up_ , Derek thinks, then flushes. He looks away. Not sure what to do, though he can almost hear Braeden shouting at him to flirt back. And isn’t that why he came out tonight? To flirt with strangers? To let it sink in that there are other people out there who _are_ interested in him?

‘Why the mask?’ he blurts out, realizing he’s been quiet for too long.

The curve of the Fox’s mouth is amused. He probably noticed Derek’s fumbling. ‘Because it’s easier,’ he says with shrug. He doesn’t allow Derek to pry further, because he quickly follows it up with, ‘Why the bad night? Couldn’t find anyone to dance with you?’

Ignoring the slightly sneering tone in the last question, Derek says honestly, ‘Nobody I wanted to dance with.’ He can’t see it, but he’s sure the Fox is raising his eyebrows in question. ‘I’m trying to get over someone. It’s not really working.’

The guy steps closer. He smells of sweat and alcohol, and while Derek fled the club to escape that smell just a few minutes earlier, now it’s pulling him in. His eyes drop down to the Fox’s mouth again. It’s a nice mouth, one corner tilted up just enough that it looks like he’s always hiding a smirk there. Derek’s stomach curls with want.

‘Maybe I can help you,’ the Fox murmurs.

A ghost of a breath on Derek’s lips, and then that teasing, smirking, sneering mouth is on his. He wants to kiss back, wants to press that body against the alley wall, pull those slim legs around his waist. He wants to know if the guy kisses the way he dances, but the unbidden images of messy brown hair peeking out from under a faded red hoody, long fingers twirling a pen, flash through his mind, and he pushes the Fox off him.

He pushes harder than he intended, and the guy almost goes down. Derek starts to apologize, to say he didn’t mean to push him that hard, but snaps his mouth shut at the sight of the hurt twist of the Fox’s lips.

‘My bad,’ the guy mumbles, then turns around sharply and goes back into the club.

~

Derek doesn’t really stop thinking about the kiss, or the hurt look and tone of the Fox after he pushed him away, the entire weekend. He cancels his plans with Braeden, saying he has study—which isn’t a lie, but he’s so distracted he barely gets anything done. The worst is the guilt. He feels guilty towards Stiles, which is ridiculous. Stiles wouldn’t kiss him. Stiles barely acknowledges him, or anyone else for that matter, and Derek’s tried, really hard. When Braeden found out about his crush she even helped, but Stiles has ignored every attempt at contact. The only time Stiles actually responded to one of his attempts was when Derek asked him if he wanted to study together sometime.

‘Right, and have Your Royal Jockness mooch off my hard work,’ Stiles snorted, then huddled further into his hoodie and walked away.

He’s pretty much left Stiles alone after that. Pining from a distance is less painful than up-close rejection. So now, whenever they have a class together, or they happen to be at the library at the same time, Derek just watches. Which sounds creepier than it is, he hopes. He just likes watching Stiles. He likes the little frown between his brows whenever he’s focussed, the way his tongue peeks out from between his lips when he’s furiously typing, the way he mumbles to himself as he tries to understand something, and especially the way he’s sometimes just a little too loud. Stiles is generally pretty quiet, but every once in a while there’s this burst of energy, movement, and sound from him. Derek wants to know where that comes from, where Stiles hides all that passion.

The next Wednesday, when he sees Stiles walking into the 20th Century English Lit lecture they share, he knows something’s wrong. Stiles’ shoulders are almost up by his ears, he’s so tense; and from the glances of the people walking past Stiles, he must have his music turned up to the max.

Derek waits until Stiles sits down, then quickly takes the seat next to him. Pining from a distance is over, he decides. He got kissed by a hot guy that Friday and all he could wonder was if Stiles’ lips would feel the same against his. He’s not getting over Stiles any time soon, and if he manages to make Stiles feel a little better today, maybe, _just maybe_ , Stiles will talk a little more to him in the future. In any case, it’s not like Stiles can talk to him any less.

‘Hey,’ he says.

There’s no response.

‘Are you okay?’

Still no response. He taps Stiles’ shoulder, making Stiles jump and throw his books on the floor.

‘Sorry,’ Derek hurries to say, and scrambles to help Stiles pick up his stuff, but in his hurry he doesn’t pay much attention to what Stiles is doing, and their heads bump as they bend down at the same time.

‘Ow,’ Stiles yelps. He sits up and turns to glare at Derek, rubbing his forehead. He shoves down his hood, and pulls off his headphones. ‘What the hell is your problem?’

‘I- I’m sorry. I just- I was wondering if you were okay?’ Derek stammers. This is not going the way he planned.

‘No,’ Stiles bites out, then puts his headphones back on, snatches his books off the floor, and turns to face the front.

Derek’s heart sinks. He really screwed up. Or maybe it’s just not meant to be. Which happens. Sometimes you like someone and they just don’t like you back. It stings and Derek clenches his jaw to help push back the tears. He sneaks his phone out of his pocket and quickly texts Braeden to tell her he’s taking her up on her offer of movies and ice cream tonight.

~

Between work, classes, studying, basketball practice, and watching movies with Braeden, there shouldn’t have been enough time to think about Stiles and the hopeless crush he has on him; and yet, he’s been thinking about him more than ever this week. Which is why Derek asks Braeden to go to the club with him again on Friday.

He regrets it the second they’re inside. The lights are too bright and dim at the same time; the smell hits him like a wall; and as he makes his way to the bar, his shoes keep sticking to the floor. He grabs the last available seat, and waves at the bartender to get her attention. When he turns to Braeden to ask her if she wants a drink, he can see that she’s worried.

‘Go dance,’ he tells her.

‘Come find me any time, okay?’ she says, squeezing his shoulder.

Derek nods and pushes her to the dance floor. He orders a beer, then turns around to watch the dancefloor. It’s hard to make out individual people. It’s a colourful mass with the occasional arm, leg, or head sticking out. It’s a little funny actually, when he thinks about it like that.

There’s a flash of… something in the corner of his eye. He peers into the crowd, focussing on the individual faces. Then he sees it: the strange, flat features of a fox mask. _Oh shit_. He quickly turns around, facing the wall of liquor behind the bar, hoping the guy hasn’t seen him.

A tap on his shoulder has that hope evaporate.

Heart in his throat, Derek turns around slowly. The Fox is standing behind him. He looks almost exactly the same as last time, except he’s wearing a t-shirt instead of a tank top. The shirt is tight with a deep V, exposing collarbone and a hint of chest. Derek swallows. He looks really good.

The Fox leans in and Derek startles back, not sure what to expect.

‘You wanna dance?’ the guy asks.

And that was the last thing Derek expected after last time. ‘Really?’

The Fox makes a gesture that Derek takes to mean: _I wouldn’t ask otherwise_.

‘Okay,’ Derek says, a little stunned. He sets his drink on the bar and lets himself be dragged onto the dance floor. Stiles tries to push his way to the front of his mind again, but Derek pushes him back. He doesn’t owe the guy anything. They’re not dating. They’ve barely spoken to each other, and each time they did Stiles was a total asshole.

They don’t try to push into the crowd. Instead, they stay at the edge, where they have room to move and the only bodies they’re pressed against are each other’s. Derek places his hands on the Fox’s hips, and pulls him as close as possible. They quickly go from dancing, to grinding, to making out. Derek’s skin is buzzing, adrenaline rushing through his veins, heart beating fast. He breaks the kiss, and drags his lips along the Fox’s jawline to his ear.

‘You wanna come home with me?’ he asks. Because fuck it. If he’s doing this, he’s doing this all the way.

The Fox pulls back. Even in the pulsing lights of the club Derek can see the heat burning in the guy’s eyes as he nods.

‘Yes,’ he says.

Derek looks around for Braeden. He finds her at the bar, already looking at him. She gives him a thumbs up and shoos him towards the exit.

‘How far is your place,’ the Fox asks when they’re outside.

‘Only a block from here,’ Derek says, nodding in the direction of his apartment.

‘Perfect.’ The Fox grins. He grabs Derek’s hand tightly, and starts running.

When they reach Derek’s door, they’re both panting, the Fox a little more heavily than Derek.

‘You need a minute?’ Derek teases as he opens the door.

‘Shut up,’ the Fox grumbles. He follows Derek inside, and immediately pushes Derek against the door. It slams shut with a harsh bang. Pressing one leg between Derek’s, he shoves his hands up Derek’s shirt.

‘Fuck,’ Derek breathes out.

‘That’s the plan,’ The Fox murmurs.

He starts mouthing at Derek’s neck, and even with the door at his back, Derek needs to put his hands on the Fox’s hips to steady himself. He can feel the muscles in the Fox’s ass flexing as he slowly grinds against Derek, an amazing, maddeningly slow rhythm. By the smile pressed against his neck, Derek knows that the Fox knows exactly what he’s doing to him. So Derek slides his hands beneath the guy’s thighs and hoists him up. The Fox gasps, then groans. He wraps his legs tightly around Derek waist, and his arms around Derek’s neck.

‘Holy shit,’ the Fox pants against Derek’s lips. He takes Derek’s bottom lip beneath his teeth and pulls softly. ‘This is a thing. This a very good thing.’

Derek walks them to his bed and drops The Fox on it, then kicks off his shoes and pulls off his shirt before crawling between the guy’s legs.

‘So many good things,’ the Fox murmurs. He licks his lips and trails a hand down Derek’s abs. He smirks. ‘Is that what you like? Someone smaller to manhandle and carry around?’

Derek doesn’t answer. He shoves the guy’s shirt up and starts biting kisses into the exposed skin, making his way down.

The Fox drags his hands across Derek’s shoulders, into his hair, then twists his fingers into the short strands and pulls. ‘Or do you like to _be_ manhandled, big guy?’

‘You’re not that much smaller than me,’ Derek snorts, and pinches the guy’s side.

‘Ow,’ the Fox yelps.

Derek shoots up and flicks on the bedside lamp.

‘What the–‘

Before The Fox can finish his question or adjust to the sudden light, Derek pulls off his mask.

‘Hey!’

_Holy shit._

Derek can only stare. He doesn’t even stop Stiles from yanking the mask out of his limp fingers. The same Stiles who is always hiding in his oversized hoodies, who glares at Derek when he deigns to talk to him, who was a complete dick to him earlier that week, is currently _beneath him_.

Stiles sits up and pulls his shirt down, avoiding Derek’s gaze. He pulls his legs from around Derek, and shuffles to the edge of the mattress. He doesn’t put the mask back on, but lets it lie in his lap, snapping the elastics against his hand.

After a minute of silence and staring, Stiles finally looks at Derek and clears his throat. ‘I, uhm… I should go.’

‘No!’ Derek shouts, almost throwing himself on top of Stiles to make him stay. He can’t leave yet. ‘Why?’ he asks.

‘Why what?’

‘Why did you come with me? You don’t even like me.’

‘To have sex,’ Stiles says with a shrug.

‘That’s it?’ Disappointed, Derek lets go of Stiles’ arm and pulls back. When he’d pulled off the mask and seen it was Stiles behind it, part of him had hoped…

‘What do you mean?’

Derek crawls back, away from Stiles, to the foot of the bed. He pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. Somehow, knowing that Stiles only cares for his body sucks even more than when he thought Stiles didn’t care for him at all.

‘Oh my god.’

Derek stiffens.

‘It’s me? I’m the someone you’re trying to get over?’ Stiles asks.

Derek looks at Stiles, and finds him smiling.

‘You don’t have to laugh at me,’ he bites out. ‘I know you don’t like me back.’

‘I’m not. I swear I’m not,’ Stiles says, holding up his hands. He shuffles across the bed on his knees until he’s sitting next to Derek. ‘So, that was why you were always being nice to me?’

Derek nods.

‘But _why_?’ Stiles asks, his hands flailing. ‘I’ve never been anything but a complete asshole to you!’

‘Trust me, I’ve been wondering that myself,’ Derek grouses. ‘Why are you such an asshole to me?’

‘I, uhm…’ Stiles sighs and leans against the wall next to Derek. He stretches his legs long, letting his feet dangle. ‘Fuck, I honestly don’t know.’ He glances at Derek, then quickly looks down, but not quick enough for Derek to miss the guilt in his eyes. ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘I think…’ Derek starts. ‘I think we should start over.’

Stiles looks up at him, eyebrows raised in question.

‘Hi, I’m Derek,’ Derek says, extending his hand. Stiles takes it and presses it firmly. ‘I’m a History Major, mostly interested in pre-colonial South America, and have a basketball scholarship. I have two sisters. I like Mexican food. My favourite colour is blue. I take my coffee with four sugars, and I like musicals.’

‘Hi, Derek,’ Stiles says. Something in his face has changed as Derek talked, he looks more relaxed and open. There’s a brilliance in his eyes that Derek doesn’t think he’s seen before. ‘I’m Stiles. Though that’s not my real name, it’s Mieczysław. Everybody calls me Stiles, because my best friend couldn’t pronounce it when we met in 3rd grade, and it kind of stuck. I’m doing Criminal Psychology, with a partial academic scholarship. I’m the only child of a small town Sheriff. I used to do track and lacrosse, but I wasn’t good enough for a college team, so now I just go for a run occasionally. My favourite colour is red. Fave food is pizza. I can’t drink coffee, because it gets me too hyper and then I crash so hard I can’t move. I can get a little fixated sometimes, which is how I know literally everything about male circumcistion.’

‘What?’

‘Don’t ask,’ Stiles warns, shaking his head. ‘My high school Economics teacher didn’t, and he still got an entire essay written about it.’

Derek smiles in amusement. ‘I know you said don’t ask, but I have so many questions.’

Stiles smiles back at him, and Derek’s heart jumps.

‘What is it?’ Stiles asks. He pokes Derek’s cheek. ‘What’s that thing your face is doing?’

‘I really like you,’ Derek says honestly.

Stiles looks down, a blush painting his cheeks. ‘Still? You didn’t get weirded out by the male circumcision thing?’ he asks.

Derek bumps their shoulders. ‘You have two, maybe three, very similar hoodies that you always wear, and you go to clubs with a mask on.’ He taps the mask in Stiles’ hands. ‘I figured you were a little weird.’

‘Touché.’

They sit in silence for a while, shoulder to shoulder, their hands in their laps.

‘Hey, Derek?’ Stiles says, breaking the silence.

‘Yeah?’

‘About Monday…’ Stiles takes a deep breath. ‘I was still kind of pissed about you rejecting me. I know it wasn’t _me_ you said no to, but… I don’t know. I guess I like you too, a little, even though I told myself I really shouldn’t and–‘

‘Why did you tell yourself you shouldn’t like me?’ Derek frowns.

‘You’re beautiful, and nice, and probably great at everything you do,’ Stiles says. ‘I mean, look at you. And I’m a mess. Have you seen me?’

‘Yes.’

Stiles’ mouth open and closes, his eyes boring into Derek’s. ‘I really want to kiss you right now.’

‘Okay.’

They move at the same time, meeting in the middle. Before, their kisses were heated, with a purpose: sex. This kiss is like no kiss Derek has ever had. It’s soft, almost hesitating at first, little pecks that evolve into firm presses, until their lips barely separate. Stiles grabs his shoulders and leans back, pulling Derek on top of him. His hands slide to Derek’s back, not to pull him closer, but to simply lay there. When Derek’s arms start shaking from holding himself up, he drops onto his side next to Stiles. Stiles turns with him, and bumps their noses.

‘Are you really such a mess?’ Derek asks. He runs his fingers through Stiles’ hair.

Stiles’ mouth twists wryly. ‘That’s really more of fifth date kind of thing, when I’ve already ensnared you with all my good qualities.’

‘Okay.’ Derek nods. ‘You wanna go on a date?’

‘Now?’ Stiles laughs.

Derek shakes his head. ‘Tomorrow. Or the day after. Or whenever we both have time.’

‘How about tomorrow _and_ the day after _and_ whenever we both have time?’

‘Sounds good,’ Derek says. He presses another kiss to Stiles lips. ‘That way we get to the fifth date very quickly.’

Stiles chuckles and looks down. He takes Derek’s hand and laces their fingers together. ‘So… What now?’ he asks.

‘Sleep?’ Derek suggests.

‘I… Yeah. I can sleep.’

They quickly change out of their clothes and brush their teeth. When they slide under the covers, Stiles immediately curls up and presses his back against Derek’s front.

‘This is kinda weird,’ Stiles whispers. ‘I was gonna have mad-at-you-for-making-me-like-you sex an hour ago, and now we’re cuddling.’

‘Well, I was gonna have sex with my crush to get over my crush, except I didn’t know it was my crush I was gonna have sex with, and now I’m cuddling with my crush, so it’s definitely weirder for me,’ Derek whispers back.

‘I like how often you’ve said I’m your crush,’ Stiles giggles.

‘Shut up and go to sleep,’ Derek grumbles, hiding his blush in Stiles’ hair.

‘Hmm. Gotta look pretty tomorrow. I’ve got a hot date,’ Stiles says around a yawn.

‘Goodnight, Stiles,’ Derek says, a smile on his lips.

‘G’night, Derek.’

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://fandom-madnessess.tumblr.com/).


End file.
